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Fable: The Return Chapter 3
The great king of Albion is led deep under the mines of Bower Lake to finally discover the lost secrets of his father's power. Chapter 3 The king spent the remainder of the night in his carriage. He had been lulled to sleep by the gentle clopping of horse hooves as he was led out of the city and toward Bower Lake. Reaver had tried to convince the king to join him in his new innovative steam-powered mobile machine, but he would have none of it. The less smoke in his lungs the better, but the king supposed that Reaver didn't have to worry about as many problems as the normal man. And so Reaver's strange contraption trundled along the cobblestone roads, leading the royal convoy. With the two modes of transport came fifty guards, a mixture of elite and standard placed all along the sides of the road. Within Reaver's steam-powered vessel was a housing compartment fit with the finest fur seats and a ice-box designed for keeping champagne. Reaver relaxed suavely on one of the seats with two women, one under each arm. His new royal blood-red jacket lay on the metal floor of the contraption. Reaver greatly enjoyed his miracles in innovation, but a flaw came around every now and again; the particular flaw for this one was how hot it would become on the inside. Reaver had three buttons on his dress shirt undone, leaving his bare chest revealed. Reaver gazed upon the scars that littered his pale skin; scars from various adventures, shadows of the past - from fools who didn't know any better. Each of these white cuts upon his skin was another memory of his storied past, memories from his life that had spanned centuries. With these memories floating in his head, Reaver relaxes the night away in the comfort of his machine and his women. The sun eventually rose over the wasteland which was once a beautiful lake, with housing available only to the wealthiest of citizens. This prime paradise of Albion was drained and then mined for the betterment of the people. In a time of great need, some sacrifices had to be made. The life of a king was never an easy one. The Hero of Aurora had learned this on many separate occasions during his reign. Orange and yellow hues flooded the mines and the valley, accenting each hill, rock, and bump in the earth. The morning sun pierced through the windows of Reaver's transport and the king's carriage. Reaver exited his machine through a door on the side facing the mines. He stood straight and stretched while readjusting his attire. He casually donned his blood-red suit jacket and took a very deep breath of the morning air. "Oh it is such a brisk and beautiful morning is it not? The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the smell of hard labor fills the air and I am absolutely full of joy! There is a slight crick in my neck though, a slight bother...no need to worry, I just need to make a visit to a few friends after this day." Reaver took a look around and appreciated the sights of his miners working. "Oh, one of you guards - anyone will do. Wake his majesty for me so we may begin the excursion." A couple of guards nodded in acknowledgment and Reaver turned to the mines once more and breathed again. "Ah Bower Lake, another location of one of my fabulous estates. This mine really brings out the beauty of industry. Mining, delving into the deep corners of the world to bring forth precious materials - materials that can fuel machines! And fueled machines can give us more machines in order to mine more efficiently. More efficient mining gives us more materials to burn…and the cycle continues. Isn't it wonderful?" Reaver began to get very exuberant. "Isn't it marvelous, isn't it whimsical? It's one of the most beautiful cycles of living that anyone can imagine! Why would you sit in a chair doing nothing and look at a hole filled with water when you can drink the water and then dig out the hole? Oh, and how would we ever find such precious secrets from the past if we didn't…dig?" The king was helped out of the carriage and was swiftly changed into attire fit for adventuring. He was outfitted with his old royal clothing that he wore when he first became king: the grand purple coat, the silken white trousers, and the golden ropes and accents that hold it all together. His black boots were strung tightly over his trousers and then the guards deemed him ready to adventure. He felt once more like he once did: an adventurer going to save the world. Of course, that vision had been slightly distorted by the lengthy grey beard and the slightly tarnished crown resting on his, also, grey hair. "Are you not strapping on the old gauntlets your majesty?" Reaver questioned while staring at the king's bare hands. "I expect for there to be no need to use them. I'm sure either you or the few guards accompanying us should be able to handle any dangers that come to us." "Very well, I shall bring the reinforcements." Reaver slammed the butt of his cane into the ground with great force and an audible click was heard. Reaver separated the length of his cane from the handle which was perfectly fitted to his hand; a sleek black pistol slid out of the cane and a trigger flipped out of the handle. He spun it in his hand and holstered it in his trousers. "Shall we?" "You lead the way Reaver, this is your area of expertise after all." "Ah indeed it is, indeed it is. We can go down into the bottom of the lake somewhere to the right of here. There should be a slope that was…ah yes," Reaver snapped and hurried toward a spot, "There it is." Reaver led the company of himself, the king, and five elite guards down a gentle slope to the bottom of the river. They were greeted by two miners covered in dirt and coal dust. One spoke up to Reaver, "Is this the lot, then?" "This is all of us that shall be descending." "Alright then, follow me." "Oh Peter?" The miner turned around, irritated. "I believe you have neglected to address his majesty, the king. I'm sure you, of all people, know that royalty is to be shown respect and kindness. They are not to be scoffed at and led into the musky dark with little less than a spit in the face. Now!" Reaver escalated his voice in excitement. "Considering his majesty here has some vendetta against total darkness, I will not take your other eye away from you. But I will, however," he swiftly drew his pistol and fired at the miner's left heel. "Peter, oh Peter, one should always show respect to those who are naturally above him. And those who are below should be treated as such; I thought you knew that when you took that little break a few years back. And now, I let you work your way up in my own respect to where I am able to trust you with greeting the king." He fired upon the man's right heel now; the man was down on his knees facing the dark entrance to what seemed to be a deep cavern. "I trusted you, Peter, and you did not remember the natural order of things." Reaver fired another shot into his left thigh. The one-eyed miner sat now on one knee, the other leg hanging dead. Reaver aimed his pistol for the other thigh and closed one eye. The man crawled, almost desperately, toward the dark hole before him. "Oh, what a pity-" "Reaver!" The king shouted, throwing his voice at him. "I will not allow you to kill this man for this." "Oh your majesty," Reaver began cheerfully. "I was not going to kill him at all. If he dies on his own, that is entirely his own doing." Reaver fired his black pistol at the miner's right thigh. The man screamed in agony and he jolted forward. "Here it comes." The injured miner uncontrollably flung himself into the dark hole, his screams echoing for several seconds before fading from existence. "It is a very deep hole, your majesty."